Return to Camelot
by InkQuillz
Summary: Merlin has travelled for three years, he's finally coming home, but is it too late? WARNINGS: Character deaths.


_Title:_ Return to Camelot  
_Author:_ Michaela (: XxXCrookshanksXxXP3)  
_Spoiler Warning:_ Character deaths, mild violence  
_Genre:_ Angst  
_Rating:_ K  
_Chapter:_ ONE [[one-shot]]  
_Summary:_ Merlin has travelled for three years, he's finally coming home, but is it too late?

_Disclaimer:_ Characters belong to the BBC.  
_Authors Notes:_ Written in like fifteen-twenty minuets and unbeta'd. Got bored and needed something to do.

He had never wanted to leave, never wanted to part ways with the one person in the world he had grown to trust more than himself. Yet, three years on; he was still alone and still travelling too many miles away. Though; everywhere was the same, whispers of a name, a great ruler: Arthur. Each time he heard the name an onslaught of memories clouded his minds eye; he smiled of course and carried on, always looking back in the direction he had come. In the direction of Camelot; the City of light. The city of Arthur Pendragon.

Arthur had been King for thirteen years and Merlin had stayed until he was not needed, Arthur had begged him to stay at one point; then ordered him too and they had joked that neither could make the other listen. He had not wanted to leave, not really but his destiny was complete and he knew he had to find Morgana and Mordred before they found Arthur. If they found the King; and it really wasn't that hard of a task, they'd ruin everything, change plans long in the making and kill the one good think Merlin had left in his life. Lancelot was gone, Gwen by his side, Gaius and his mother both long since dead; but Arthur's life was more important than Arthur's company and he had set out in the night when the King was asleep, made safe by enchantments of protection, ones he would not detect until someone tried to attack him. Merlin always smiled at that, imagining that the annoying little prat of a kid was still hidden in the King somewhere, that no doubt he'd started a fight with some poor servant and realised he couldn't get any flesh wounds.

Three years on though, three years passed in his travels and no Mordred or Morgana. Three years passed and he was chasing old trails back to the gilded, magical city to which was more home than any place he'd ever been in his wandering months. He had counted each step eagerly as he got nearer and nearer to his goal, each step was a victory of the likes he could ever have imagined. At the West Kingdom of Albion he came to his last stop, petted the neck of the black mare's broad neck, then slid of it's shiny coated back with a whispered; "Ah, nearly home now."

How he had longed to say that, 'nearly home' 'nearly'. He could have jumped up and down with excitement, no need for any whiffing of barmaid's aprons, no need for drink at all; he was drunk on excitement and hope. He kissed her, stroked down her mane and strolled to the nearest farmhouse, someone would have food for a hungry horse, someone would delight it in sharing in return of gold or magic or some wild prediction that he made up on the spot.

With a grin, Merlin called out, knocking on the door of an old barn.

No one answered and when he pushed at it there was nothing inside; not even a straw of hay. Then he looked properly, there were no horses; no people- not even a few footsteps in the dust. It was deserted, a whole village completely empty. There was something wrong with it, this was supposed to be a thriving working place under Arthur's jurisdiction and Arthur would never had let anything happen to his people, no matter how far they were.

"Come on." He hissed to his horse and jumped quickly on even as she trotted toward the far exit.

They rode for hours before he felt it. A buzz of static. It shot through him like wild fire spreading fear into every pore, every vein and his pounding heart. His head shouted the mantra of: 'Arthur, Arthur, must find Arthur' and for what he could not explain but every instinct he had told him Arthur was in danger, his King needed him once again and he should hurry.

He chased the clouds south, forcing his tired mare onward, his muscles screaming for rest but he continued, eyes wide and waiting for that fear to fade into nothing and he knew without knowing why or how, Arthur was in trouble and Mordred had found him.

War.

Anger.

Fear.

Pain…

Arthur in every fibre of his being was calling to him, begging Merlin to help, screaming through the pain or iron wrought swords pierce him, yelling as cruel curses mangled him. Where? Where though? Where was he meant to go? Where was the fight to end all wars? Where was his Arthur dying?

-x-

Hadrian's wall was ten miles East of Camelot. Ten miles east of Camelot the Knights of the city of light were under siege. Ten miles east of Camelot Morgana was streaming learned spells at the battle field, urging her warrior on, Mordred's men never ceasing of power and strength while unaided by magic, Arthur's men perished. Merlin chanted to himself some spell, begging it to reach Arthur, he could see the wall, see the fire but he could not see his King or the Knight's he knew so well. There were bodies, some burning from the pits of fires caused by the Druid's.

"ARTHUR?!"

He could see him and Merlin could have laughed at the joy of seeing that face once again. It was older though it had only been three years. A thick blond beard grew over the fine face, blue eyes seemed darker; even from the distance, his face and hair covered in blood, mud and unnameable things and he waved his sword at any man his way, he cut them down so easily and without the mercy normally there. He was a man fighting for his life and the life of every man, woman and child he vowed to protect.

"ic i **álæg!" **He shouted, hands directed at Morgana and a beam of yellowed light forced her magic back. Her warriors died of their own accord and he realised at once she was not given them strength she had given them life.

She had been Arthur's sister once, the adopted child so readily loved by Uther, she had shared in their lives and here she stood ready to kill the man she had once said she loved, who she had once guided and helped in the motherly fashion in which she had turned on the young man left standing on the battle field, staring between Merlin and Arthur as though wondering who to kill first.

Merlin raised his hand again, ready to cast any spell to bind the child man still, so the Druid attacked him, only for Arthur to take the advantage and attack from behind. Merlin would never be able to say what happened, had Arthur killed Mordred? Or had Mordred killed Arthur? Was Arthur already dying and needed to stab from a dying evil? He was sure of one thing though, Morgana's screaming and sobbing as she ran across the field toward her companion, shouting his name as Arthur dropped Excalibur to the floor and stumbled back, hand clutching his abdomen as he choked on blood.

It wasn't till he crumbled to the floor did Merlin spark into action.

"Arthur! Arthur…" _Arthur, no, no, no… You can't die._

The minuet he reached Arthur's side he stretched a hand out to heal the wound, Mordred had broken his protection spell. "Arthur?" He whispered, the blond King's hand grabbed Merlin's hand and pulled it away.

"No."

"You will die, Arthur. Don't be a prat. Let me heal it." He tried again but even dying Arthur was stronger than him.

"You came back." He croaked, a smile attempting to form on his ruined face.

"Of course I did."

"You left."

"I'm sorry… Let me heal you…"

"I never do what you say…" His voice was quieter still and Merlin leaned closer to listen properly.

"Throw Excalibur to the lake."

"No, you aren't finished yet."

"Merlin, damnit! Even when I'm near enough dead you can't follow orders!"

"I'm not your servant, remember? I don't need to follow orders. I need to fix you."

"I'm glad you came back."

"Me too."

They stayed like that, on the floor, Merlin with one hand under Arthur's head, holding it up. Their hands clenched together over Arthur's chest. Merlin cradling the King like he was nothing more than a child. Arthur's eyes opened again, slowly as though it was causing great pain. Deep down he knew why Arthur would not let him heal him, Arthur was too damn noble to live where he men had not.

"I'm sorry I left, if I had no known what they would do I would have stayed."

"You left because of what they were planning." He hissed in a pained breath, Grimacing as Merlin moved closer till they were almost both laying on the bloodied floor. "You thought you could save me, Merlin."

"It's my job."

"Galahad is to be King."

Galahad was not Arthur's son, it would cause a riot but Merlin smiled and stroked back Arthur's hair.

"I will see to it."

Arthur smiled back, attempted to chuckle. "Tell me, wizard. Will he make a good King?"

"Not as good as you…" He mumbled back, holding Arthur tighter as though he could see the life leaving him.

Merlin stayed by his side until the last breath left the King's body. Sir Kay and Sir Bedevere stumbled forward, battle broken but never the less, alive.

"You are back, Merlin?"

He barely looked at them as he mumbled 'yes', and continued to hold the fallen King.

"Carry him back. I must do something before I return to Camelot."

Merlin let the Knight's take Arthur's dead body while he himself grabbed Excalibur to once again throw back in the lake, this time it would never again see the light. The so called prophesy of the Once and Future King was over, there was no use for a sword such as this one anymore.


End file.
